This Isn't a Conjugal Visit
by Dane B
Summary: Pete Kowalski visits Gary Smith, his only friend, in his new home. Jail. But when Pete brings up a proposition that promises Gary both freedom and revenge, it's all but sweet. It's just plain monstorous.
1. Chapter 1

Pete Kowalski always thought of prison visits as the things you saw in movies. Looking at your loved one across a thick glass screen, talking to them through a phone in your cubicle. He wasn't expecting such an open area, what looked like his school cafeteria. He scanned from seat to seat looking for Gary, not noticing the grabbing hand of the security guard to his left.

"Kid, I need your security pass. _Kid_."

And there he was, the table at the far side of the room. Gary Smith, the boy who deceived an entire faculty; Gary Smith, the boy who turned a school into a civil war; Gary Smith, the boy with the scar. Now as Pete looked at him, he was none of those things. He was actually kind of... sad. It was obvious whatever food they served here, Gary didn't eat it. On top of being-

_i need that pass kid, that pass_

-so thin, patches of his hair looked like they'd been pulled out.

_It's certain Gary wouldn't succumb to being anyone's bitch, so suffice to say he pulled that out. Jesus, Gary. You're really not-_

"Dammit, man, I need your pass!"

The ferocity of this statement tripped Pete from his thoughts. The look he was given was one of great impatience, and Pete dug the pass out of his pocket and gave it to the guard without hesitation. The guard gave him a slight push along, getting to the next person in line.

Pete crept his way past crying mothers and spouses, making his way to that sad boy on the far side of the room. And when that same boy noticed Pete coming his way, Pete stopped. Gary rolled his eyes, and Pete walked the rest of the way over and sat down across from him.

"Didn't think you really had the nads to come in here, femme boy. You know, you might fit in pretty well with my this crowd. They're gay, you're gay." Gary marveled at his own wit, letting out a chuckle. Normally this was common conversation between the two, but this seemed forced and awkward. There was a hint of pain beneath the surface of Gary's speech.

"Come on, Petey. You came here to talk, right? Or did you just miss my smiling face?"

"Sorry Gary. I'm not really.. used to this kind of thing."

"Well you could start out by asking how I'm doing."

"Sorry. How are you?"

Gary laughed again. "Thanks Petey. Oh, I'm super. The bed's are comfy, the food is immaculate, room service twenty-four seven. Great, great, great."

Pete couldn't help but smile a little. It never ceased to amaze him how Gary can keep his sarcasm through any situation. It's probably the only thing tying him to his sanity, at least Gary's version of sanity.

Truth is, Pete's been feeling a little crazy himself. Gary was his only friend, though a bad friend, and since he had crashed through that skylight, Pete hasn't been happy. He _wanted _the name calling, he wanted the constant beating, the constant homosexual innuendos. At least it was something. Gary had never called he and Pete friends, but it was something whispered under every insult.

Pete found himself hating Jimmy Hopkins. He took his only friend from Pete, and it made Pete angry, which was very uncommon. Maybe having Gary around caused Pete's good nature as well. But he hated Jimmy with everything that was left of him. Maybe as much as Gary. And isn't that why he was here, in this prison? Because he hated Jimmy Hopkins and he wanted him gone? Then it was time to move past the small talk.

"Gary."

"Yes femme boy?"

"About Jimmy..."


	2. Chapter 2

"About Jimmy..."

Gary took this with a tinge of uneasiness. He hadn't thought, hadn't _wanted _to think, about Jimmy Hopkins since he was put in this hell hole. Since Jimmy put him there, come to think of it. Something else Gary felt was suprise. Pete suddenly spoke with a bit of authority, back straight up, head held high.

"So," Gary began, "what about Jimmy?"

"I'm going to come right out and say it. I don't like him" said Pete.

Gary laughed, something he's been doing a lot more of in the past four minutes. "Well, neither do I! Pete, if this is what you call bonding then I think we're done here."

"You know darn well I'm getting somewhere."

Yes, Gary did. Pete's a wimp, a quiet wimp. He personified neither of those things at the moment. The conversation actually made Gary... uncomfortable. Maybe it was his opposition to any type of change, not caused by him of course.

"Well then, Petey. Get to it."

"I really want Jimmy gone. And I can't do that by myself. So-"

"What do you want me to do? I'm in _jail_."

"Don't interrupt me... Gary. I'm... I'm gonna get you outta here."

Gary looked around instinctively. "How the hell do you expect to do that," he whispered.

"With help."

Right there, Gary knew. He couldn't help but let a smile creep across his cheeks. "You twisted son of a bitch. You're going to get someone to break me out."

Pete grinned his response. Gary was right. He was turning into something he never thought he could be: sick and cunning.

"Well I thought both of us could try together. I really don't' know anyone else. I'm too weak and-"

"Get Russell to do it. He's a moron."

"Yeah, but he usually needs someone guiding him."

"Right. The dog needs someone pulling his leash."

Gary thought for a moment. He wanted to believe that, somehow, Pete's plan (_if you could fucking call it that_) could work. But...

_Wait a minute._

"Use Mister Galloway."

"What?" said Pete.

"He's been in jail many times, he knows the territory well. And it should be easy being an alcoholic."

"How do you think I should do this?"

"Spike his drink. Lead him back to the thing he can't seem to stop."

"With Zoe for the summer. He's helped out Mister Galloway once, out of rehab or something."

"Well then that's it! There's your plan. You just have to figure out how. And quick, cause I don't wanna stick around this place for very long."

"Well. Yeah."

A bell rang. The guard near the door, the same impatient one from before, called out "Visiting hours are over."

Pete felt sad. Even though this entire meeting was serious in nature, it was the only happiness he has felt in a long while.

"Goodbye Petey. See you soon." Gary winked as a guard came by to handcuff him.

Pete had to watch as the guard drug Gary away, back into whatever place they tossed him in. He had to watch as they took him away like some criminal. _He's _not _a criminal. He's not. Jimmy put him here. Jimmy has to get it._

That was it. All this anger, feelings Pete never felt before. It was his fault, wasn't it? Jimmy's? Yes. Jimmy needs to be broken, and Pete wants to watch it all happen.

Pete wants to watch him bleed.


	3. Chapter 3

"Alright children, nice to see you all this morning. Just- just do your work while I grade papers."

It has been a while since Mister Galloway has had a drink, largely Misses Phillips's doing, and it has been stressing him out. Taking an addict's crutch right from beneath him obviously makes him fall, and it's been a hard time getting himself back up. Coffee has been a pretty good start, it is to him what nicotine gum is to smokers. But it lacks that kick in the throat that scotch always seemed to bring so nicely. Was this a bit masochistic? Hell yes. But, as Mister Galloway saw it, all alcoholics were a bit masochistic.

And this new turn-around had it's benefits. Never mind the health benefits, Misses Phillips has been a lot more...friendly lately. Now that he didn't always smell like the inside one of the "gentlemen's" clubs Coach Burtonvisits.

_But now I smell like coffee. Whatever turns her on, though, right?_

He chuckled at this, causing a few students to look up from their assignment. He waved them to get back to work and tried concentrating on grading papers. He got through half the pile when the bell rang, sending the kids to would think this would make students happy, but with what was served on Bullworth's lunch menu, it had the opposite effect.

"Put your work in the top bin. Be sure you've written down the homework," said Mister Galloway.

He waited a few minutes after all the kids had left, finished up a little more of that grading, and then left for Miss Phillips's classroom.

*****

"Fuck. _Open."_

"I thought-I thought you said you did this kinda stuff all the time."

"I do, shut up. God, Pete, when did you get balls?"

The door finally gave way, swinging open casting a bar of light across the empty classroom. Trent put away his credit card

_For emergencies my ass, ha_

and stepped inside. Pete was close behind, practically hiding behind Trent. With him was a shopping bag.

"What are you scared of, Pete? There isn't anyone even in here" said Trent, waving his arm around the room.

"I know," Pete said, stepping out from behind the taller boy.

"Well. Do what you need to do and let's go."

"Gimme a sec, Trent. I paid you didn't- didn't I?" Even though Pete was coming out of his shell, becoming more and more a "tough guy", he was still intimidated by Trent's size as opposed to his.

Trent didn't respond. He reached into his pocket, feeling the wad of bills Pete had given him for this little... _excursion_.

_Twenty dollars. Should'a ask' d for more maybe._

Pete was rummaging through all of Mister Galloway's drawers, sliding around papers, pink slips, little packets of sugar-

There.

Pete pulled out what he needed. A key. He rearranged the papers and such as best he could, and closed the drawers. Trent watched with a slight curiosity as Pete rushed over to the closet at the far corner of the room, shopping bag still in hand. Every classroom had a closet and were usually used to keep extra supplies. But when Pete unlocked the door, there was more inside than just boxes of paper clips. On one of the metal shelves was a large coffee machine, still trickling black drops into a pot.

"I could' a picked that one too, you know" said Trent.

Pete straightened up, seeing the last five minutes of him going through Mister Galloway's desk was most likely unneeded. He felt a pang of embarrassment.

"Sorry" said Pete, wishing he _could _slip back into his shell, deciding against it. He was in too deep, as mafia cliches like to say.

Trent rolled his eyes. He paced around the room, losing interest in whatever the hell Pete was doing.

Pete lifted a back lid of the coffee maker, the one where you poured water into, and produced a bottle of whiskey from his bag. He popped off the top and poured out less than half the bottle in the water. The water, and the coffee, took on a shade of gold. A small change in color, overall unnoticeable. He capped back on the top and put the bottle back in the bag. It was then that Trent saw what Pete had, and rushed over with a new-found interest.

"Dude! Where'd you get that!" Trent said.

"Some homeless guy got it for me. A bribed him with vodka money."

"You are awesome dude!" Trent reached into the bag, taking the bottle straight from it. He ran out of the room before Pete could protest. He didn't run after him though, let him have it. Pete didn't need it anymore. He did like Trent saying he was awesome, though. People didn't ever respond to Pete being nice, but they did when he was being mischievous apparently.

_This isn't simple mischief. No, this can really hurt people. People like Jimmy Hopkins. _

But what about Mister Galloway? Did he deserved to be hurt too?

_[A simple casualty.]_

That voice wasn't Pete's. That was Gary. Pete could see him leaning against the doorframe, that sly grin strung across his face.

_[To get to the prize you need to bust a few heads.]_

Pete didn't like that analogy. He grimaced at the thought of actually having to do something like...like that. Gary saw this on his face. He sighed.

_[Not literally, Femme boy. Well, maybe.]_

Pete grimaced again, making Gary smile.

"Stop messing with me Gary." As Pete said that, he snapped out of whatever crazed state he was in. His words hung in the air, no real ear around to hear them. This scared him. He hurried out of the room, all at once locking the closet door and setting the key back in its respective drawer. He made sure to lock the door on his way out, and ran downstairs to the lunch room.


	4. Chapter 4

Pete could see Mister Galloway changing throughout the day, a sure sign his plan was working. And well. His nice shirt become more ruffled, misshapen, and stained with sweat progressively. His movements were jittery, he fumbled with things, and he was on a non-stop coffee binge. Since Pete added that extra "ingredient" Mister Galloway loved the stuff. By six o' clock he was wandering the halls in a drunken stupor. He seemed to be outside of himself, looking at the world as if it was upside down. Moving like the world was upside down. Prefects had to help him up numerous times when he lost his balance, or rather what was left of it.

It was horrendous. People had seen Mister Galloway drunk before, but he had been sober for what seemed a long time. Now that span of being clean looked like mere hours as students saw him trip down the front steps, catching himself on the railing before he landed straight on his ass.

"What's up with Mister G?" shouted one boy.

"I'm fine, children, fine," said Mister Galloway. His speech was slurred, and through it _children _became something more like _chid-ren_and _fine _became _feign_.

He walked, practically _limped_, to left down to the parking lot. Some students followed, Pete one of them, along with a prefect.

"Uhm. Mister Galloway I don't think you should drive in your... state," said the prefect.

Mister Galloway fumbled with his car keys. Getting the key aligned with the lock was like putting thread through a needle in his, what the prefect referred to as a state.

"Yeah-a, well I gotta get home, dunt I?" said Mister Galloway, never removing his attention from his keys. Finally he got the door unlocked which brought a large smile to his face.

"Dere we go," he said, turning his smile to the prefect. "Perfect."

The prefect stepped forward, grabbing onto Mister Galloway's arm.

"Sir, I can't let you drive awa-"

The rest of his sentence was muffled beneath Mister Galloway's fist being rammed up the prefect's nose. The prefect tipped backward, arms swinging about for something to keep him from falling. He landed flat on his back, clutching his face with both hands, flailing about from side to side as blood vomited out of his nostrils.

Mister Galloway now had a sick look of accomplishment as he managed to start his car. The students did not try to stop him, most were helping the prefect back to his feet. It didn't matter. Mister Galloway didn't go far. He drove hard in reverse, quickly shifting it into drive and lunging forward at seventy miles-per-hour. He veered to the left trying to turn out the front gates but missed it, making his turn to soon. He slammed dead into the wrought-iron fence, taking a snarl out of it. He flew through his suddenly glassless windshield and landed on the street. His head came down first, busting open like a water balloon being thrown at the ground. Only what came out was crimson and carried with it small, pink chunks.

Some kids, mostly the smaller ones, howled in terror and ran away. A few made a run for the trash bins and the bushes, hurling up anything they had eaten for the week. Teachers and prefects, hearing the crash from wherever they were, were now gathered around the parking lot.

Miss Phillips was one of them.

She stood there expressionless for a moment, her mind still processing everything within her view.

_blood  
_

_car  
_

_man  
_

_man  
_

_GALLOWAY_

It's then she started to scream.

"GALLOWAY! JESUS CHRIST, NO GALLOWAY! _GALLOWAY DAMMIT!_"

She made a run for her now-deceased fiancee, still screaming. The rest of the faculty only looked on- some couldn't even do that- crying. They watched as she slowed when she approached Mister Galloway. She knelt beside him and they watched as she rocked him back and forth in her lap, soaking her skirt with his blood. Tears flowed down her cheeks and they watched as she fell to the side, fainting.

Pete saw this as well and in that crowd of people he was the one most horrified. His plan had taken a right turn straight into Hell. Mister Galloway was

_bust a few heads to get to the prize you need to bust a few heads  
_

dead. It wasn't supposed to happen like this, he wasn't supposed to do this. Now Pete didn't know what to do. He wanted revenge, yes, but not if it caused this.

_[Not that simple, is it? You're really fucked now.]  
_

_I know that Gary. Jesus, my plan. Mister... oh God._

Pete was swept under by nausea. His legs dragged him to the nearest bush where his mouth deposited that day's meals into it. He felt a little better, that sick purgatory where you're balanced, but ready for another round with the Porcelain Goddess.

_Ugh.  
_

_[Well, what next now? Any Plan B?]_

Pete was ashamed he didn't think about a backup plan. It seemed cynical thinking of a backup plan because Mister Galloway was spread across the pavement. Right now the students and a couple teachers were helping Miss Phillips back inside, the rest waiting for an ambulance to arrive. Someone had put a coat over Mister Galloway's head, and now that was stained with the rusty violet of dried blood.

_[Petey!]  
_

This startled Pete. What startled him even more was that he could be startled by an imaginary voice. Was it imaginary? Maybe not. He could see Gary now, appearing right next to where Mister Galloway lay, his hands in his pockets, a look of pity aimed right at Pete.

_[No Plan B? Come on now. Think think think.]  
_

_I can't. He... did I do this?  
_

_Gary rolled his eyes. [The dumb man tried to drive out of the school going ninety, drunk. Who's fault do you think it was?]  
_

_But he was drunk because of-  
_

_[Petey, he was probably going to kill himself like this eventually. So your plan failed. Now you have to improvise or make up a new one.]  
_

_Okay._

What could he do? How else could he get Gary out of jail. His whole plan depended on Mister Galloway getting back into Happy Volts. Then Gary would get transferred there from prison, having done some pretty crazy things whilst in jail to convince the judge of such an action. Then had his own plan to convince Mister Galloway to help him escape, he could be very manipulative. But now... well. Pointless.

_[Not entirely.]  
_

Pete didn't know what Gary meant. Gary seemed to sense this, as he sighed and began to approach Pete, still standing over the bush.

_What are you thinking Gary?  
_

_[There's another person who's going to be put away. Think.]  
_

_...Miss Phillips?  
_

_[No you moron, on what grounds would they put her there? No, someone else.]  
_

_Who, Gary, who?  
_

_[You, Pete.]_

Pete, right then and there, almost puked again.

_[I can use you. My little battering ram, you'll be. In a way.]  
_

_This is confusing Gary. What do you want me to do.  
_

_[Get in jail. You're going to prison, Petey-ol'-boy.]  
_

_No. I- Jimmy's not worth it. I should just go on and- I can probably do it myself, Gary. I'll just kill him myself, hurt him at least. I can do it.  
_

_[No. I want this just as much as you do. We have to work together Pete. I need you Petey. I need you.]_

To Pete, those words were all the incentive he needed. He could tell Gary wasn't being sarcastic like usual. He really... really cared.

_I'll try.  
_

_[You'll dooo--]  
_

Gary, or at least Hallucination Gary, started to fade away like rising smoke.

Wait. Gary!

But Gary was gone. Sirens rose from the distance as that and a cop car rode into school grounds. Pete was alone, holding his face in his hands, crying and wondering how he'll get himself into prison.

-------------------

This was a hard chapter. I was driving it on the edge of a cliff, in danger of falling down into being inconsistent with the story. Even just plain dumb. Why couldn't Pete do it himself, what was the point if it meant killing a man, etc. But I blame it all on insanity and love, for you Yaoi fans out there.

I've been busy with a script and a novel, so this and the previous chapter was slow coming, and I apologize. I'll be quicker.


	5. Chapter 5

It was closing on midnight as Doctor Crabblesnitch was sitting alone in his office, reading over a memo sent to him a few hours ago. It was a long one that was slipping through his mind without leaving any trace of understanding. Through one ear and out the other, in a way.

What it basically said was how unfortunate the death of Mister Galloway

_the bastard deserved it_

was, how the school was going to handle it, what the future held, and of course finger pointing. Right now, the Prefects were getting most of that. But soon, Crabblesnitch knew, it would filter its way up to him.

"Shit," he said to the empty room. "Shit."

As if in response, there was a knock at his door. He went across the doom and opened it to a very disturbed looking Prefect. He was dripping sweat all over the new rug. Can't have that.

Crabblesnitch pushed him back out into the office, catching the already jittery Prefect- Carl I think his name is- by suprise.

"Sir... Doctor Crabblesnitch I-"

"Quiet boy quiet, what are you huffing all about for, hmmm? Really man, I elected you a Prefect for a reason-"

"We found the reason for today's... accident. Sir."

"What. What did you just say boy, what are you saying?"

"It wasn't an accident, sir! His coffee, sir, was spiked with alcohol."

Crabblesnitch took a step back, falling into the chair behind the front desk. His head began to pound, wondering how...

"How could this come to be," He said to himself, before grabbing the nearest pencil holder and tossing at the far wall. Pencils sprayed across the office, rolling across the hardwood floor. He calmed himself down, regained his composure. He's the principal, for God's sake.

"Good. Good, now do you know who did this?"

"Sorry sir. We do sir, Peter Kowalski."

"Who?"

*****

"Why the fuck did you do it?"

The library echoed his question, it boomed between shelves and never liked to be yelled at. Even more so by an old man like Doctor Crabblesnitch. He had been yelled at too much in his own life. He also was never too fond of being held against his will. But what should he expect, a comfy bed to be interrogated in?

Pete said the first thing that came into his head.

"For the fun of it."

This was met with a harsh slap across the face by Crabblesnitch, sending Pete to the floor.

"Get him off to jail."

The last remaining Prefects, which was two after the days festivities, carried of Pete by his arms out of the room.

*****

The police man, the same one taking tickets from Pete's visit to the prison, now looked at Pete with much disdain. Pete could not meet his eyes as he was carried by the taller man to cell, unlocked the bars, and flung him inside.

"How long, sir?" asked Pete.

"Until your trial starts up. A couple weeks maybe. Unless of course you have some nearby friends with a couple hundred-thousand bucks." The officer laughed at this and walked away. Pete could hear a door close from down the hall and then all was silent in the cell block.

Until someone spoke from behind him.

"Femme boy, never thought I'd see you on this side of the bars."

Pete spun around and met Gary's gaze, those beautiful eyes caught hold of him as they so often do. Or did. Wait, do now. He tried to feel happy, but he couldn't. Whatever emotions he had left met their death along with Mister Galloway. Not that Pete had much emotion before. He never conveyed any emotion except irritation. He wanted to feel happy so badly, but just couldn't.

"Say something, like why you're here? Hmmm?"

"Galloway died. Got drunk."

"Well that was the plan really, but how did that kill him?"

"He tried to drive and crashed. Into the front gate."

Gary sighed and punched the mirror hanging over a dirty sink in one corner of the cell. It did not shatter, but it did make a spider web of cracks flowing from a bloody center.

Pete scrambled to find words that would calm down the now furious Gary before he hit something else. "But that's why I'm here Gary. To take his place, I can help you!"

"How? How, you've never been sent to jail like that drunk! He's been here and at that mad house a few fucking hundred times!

"I know, but I could still help. Look I didn't know what else to do!"

There was a bang on the wall from an adjacent cell.

"Shut up ya' fucking lunatic!" called a voice from that other cell.

"Go back to bed ya' fucking lunatic!" shouted Gary, anger only increasing by this new nuisance.

There came another bang as the same man responded. "What did ya' say little bitch! I saw you come in, you're a little bitch!"

"Do you want to find out? Huh, I'll rip your throat out!"

The other man grunted, and there was a creaking of bed springs. For a few minutes the two boys stood quietly waiting for any more retort.

"Any ways," Pete began, "I know I can't do much, but I'll do everything you tell me Gary. I promise. Really."

Pete sat on the bottom bunk of the bed, saying nothing. He stared at Pete for what seemed like hours, which made Pete very uncomfortable. Finally he smiled and motioned for Pete to come over and sit by him. Pete did as he was told, sitting right beside Gary. Gary reached around and grabbed Pete by the waist, dragging them closer together.

"Petey, boy for whatever reason I cannot deny you. Especially when you get all puppy-doggish. You're so damned cute like that."

Pete shuffled under Gary's grasp, again uncomfortable. Or was he nervous?

Gary chuckled. "But I guess puppy dog really isn't your description anymore, is it? Now you're a man. It took two killings to get a set of balls for you, but hey whatever. Everyone goes through puberty differently." Pete laughed a little, but quickly stopped as Gary turned towards him, mere inches from his face.

"But of course you need my help. I do all the work, and you just... be... cute."

Pete squeaked as Gary closed the gap. Their faces met, cheeks rubbed against each other, noses flicked against each other, all as they made the ultimate promise. Gary didn't stop at just kissing. His hands met other places, that night other things rubbed against each other, flicked against each other, and another connection was made. One that echoed throughout the entire cell block, though it was typical to hear such sounds around a jail at night. But this was special, to both people.

If you asked any inmate the next morning what they heard that night, they'd say a small boy crying out the entire night.

Guess Gary was just quiet during such activities.

Tonight was a time for fun. Then, the following week, was all business.

-------------------

Well, didn't think I'd be writing another chapter, but here you go. Keep the good reviews coming and I'll keep the chapters coming.


	6. Chapter 6

It was in the following weeks that both Pete and Gary plotted, mapping out every air duct and guard route they could. Every meal time was for planning, every laundry duty was for planning, every night was for planning. Not always, though. Sometimes it was necessary to release the stress of the day in natural jail cell activities. Said activities usually occurred during shower time, whereas one participant was having the time of his life and the other one wanted nothing more than to die, but in the act between Pete and Gary, both sides were more than pleased. Pete sometimes saw Gary handing out packages to other inmates, but he didn't ask about it. Just another part of the plan.

Gary was getting worried. People always stared their ways, hushed whispers and the word 'crazy' being passed around. Numerous times there were outbursts of Gary jumping up from the lunch table, giving whoever was looking their way a piece of his mind. Most times these confrontations ended in the other side turning away, and Gary sitting back in his seat resuming his lecture on how solid the bars on cell doors were, or something like that.

At the moment, around a month after Pete's arrival, the two were lying on the bottom bunk, Pete buried under a cocoon of blankets, Gary sitting at the far edge rubbing Pete's leg. He had said nothing since they got back in their cell, which made Pete worried.

"Tomorrow we leave."

Pete rose from the bed, startled. Only three words, but they chilled his spine. "Really?"

"Yes. We have to go before your trial starts, before they get you in here for good" Gary said.

"But why can't we leave after it? We can still plan our escape here when I get back."

Gary smiled. "Because I won't be here for much longer. You know that."

Pete fell upon his boyfriend's arms, tears beginning to brim his eyes.

"Why? Why?" Pete asked, practically begged. He honestly didn't know, contrary to what Gary was saying.

"Because Petey, I've helped you do what you need to do and soon I won't be needed anymore. We need to leave, so you can do what you set out to do. So I can leave."

Now Pete was balling, leaving a wet patch on Gary's shoulder. "Where? Where are you going?"

Gary didn't say anything, just climbed up to the top bunk. The only sound in the cell was that of Pete crying. Gary finally spoke once Pete quieted down.

"Do you know why you wanted my help in the first place? You could've taken care of Jimmy by yourself, easily too."

Pete choked down the last of his sniffles. "Because at the time I couldn't do it by myself. At the time I was still... Petey."

Gary chuckled. "No. It was to hold onto the fact that maybe I was still here for your help. That I might actually have cared, especially where I am now. Am I right Petey?"

Pete couldn't fight the fact that he knew Gary was right.

"Well I was, you made me. But I won't be around forever, physically any ways." This scared Pete more than anything. "You know what to do tomorrow, when the lawyer man comes to meet you. This being your first offence, they'll let you leave to meet him, but not for long and with a guard."

"Gary, please. I- I know all this."

Pete could feel Gary smiling, could almost see it. "Good."

*****

The next morning when Pete awoke, cheeks still salty from tears, Gary was gone. He wasn't in the cell, he wasn't at their usual table at breakfast, he was nowhere to be found.

Pete told himself over and over that he had just skipped breakfast, was avoiding Pete somehow. But Pete knew, a rat gnawing at the back of his mind, that before the end of the day they'd find the body of Gary Smith hanging by a ripped string of clothing somewhere in the jail. Maybe they had found him already.

But Pete couldn't think of these things, not now. He had to focus at the matter at hand. Soon a guard would get him from morning activities to take him to his lawyer's car outside.

Just as he thought it, so did it become reality. And lucky enough for Pete it was the same guard who brought him in the first time and badgered him for his ticket.

The guard, who should really be identified with a name by now, grabbed Pete by the arm and slung handcuffs on his wrists. His arms were not cuffed behind his back, much to Pete's relief.

"Ready to go boy?" the guard asked. Of course this was rhetorical, as the guard began walking down out of the activities area and through a long hallway.

"So I guess you're the escort cop of this place, right?" Pete asked.

The guard smiled, albeit a bit bitterly. "Pretty much."

They eventually reached the end of the hallway, reaching a door that lead them through the front office of the prison. The guard waved to a woman at the front desk and walked Pete outside.

The sudden onset of sun was too much for Pete, forcing him to close his eyes. The guard drug him along and Pete could feel him let go as he was lead into a passenger seat. The sun was gone from his eyes, but for a moment he could only see blue dots at the front of his vision. These dematerialized showing the inside of a very nice vehicle, Cadillac maybe. Leather seats, full stereo system, the works. Too bad it'll be a heap of metal in the next thirty minutes.

A scraggly old man sat in the driver's seat. He was looking straight at Pete, his lion-like hair hung low in his wrinkled eyes, which were encased in thick glasses with gold rims.

"Hello there son," said the lawyer man, thrusting his right hand at Pete. Pete shook it, noting the older man had a firm handshake, then sat back and buckled his seat belt as the car moved forward.

"Have you been keeping yourself busy, Pete?" asked the lawyer man, as if Pete just left a summer camp.

"Yes sir" was all Pete could muster.

"Met any friends?" Again as if Pete was at a summer camp.

"Just my roommate sir."

The lawyer man seemed very glad at Pete's answer. "Good, good."

Pete took this moment of silence to carry out little details. He looked in the rearview mirror, smiling once he saw the police officer trailing behind them wasn't wearing his seatbelt. He studied how the lawyer man drove, with one hand on the top of the steering wheel, the other in his lap. He reached into his pocket with this hand and took out his cell phone. Once they reached a red light, he took the moment to swiftly punch in something onto the phone's keyboard. He quickly replaced the phone in his pocket and reared forward when the light clicked green.

Pete knew he had to act at this prime moment. The lawyer man jumped forward quickly when this light turned green, the police officer trailing far behind but at a fast rate. The current street was deserted, a hill that curved around an empty house, just as Gary said. Gary knew this way would be taken, it was the only road winding to the nearest law office in Bullworth Vale. The next move ended in seconds.

Pete slammed his cuffed hands right at the bridge of the lawyer man's nose, causing the nostrils to vomit out a stream of blood. The lawyer cried out in pain and swung his right arm blindly toward Pete. Pete ducked his move and grabbed the gear shift, jerking it into reverse. He took his left foot and slammed it on top of the lawyer man's resting on the accelerator, sending it all the way to the floor. The car groaned and jerked backwards, raising quickly to seventy-three miles-per-hour. This met with the police officer's even seventy miles-per-hour sent said police officer's body right over the steering wheel and straight into the glass. Bullet resistant glass was much thicker than regular, so the officer was not sent flying through it. His head just slammed into the windshield, bursting open and pouring out a rush of blood like a glass of Kool Aid spilling.

Both cars were snarled together in a hideous twist of metal and paint, still rolling backwards and to te right, straight off the road and into a smal cluster of trees. The cop car swung around and hit a tree head on while the other car went straight forward into another tree a few meters past. The crash did not dent all the way to the front seats of the lawyer man's car, but it did succeeded in giving Pete's head a hard jerking. The world spun as Pete forced the door open and collapsed on the ground. The lawyer man crawled out with him, lunging at his body and ripping at his clothes. Pete slammed his cuffed hands into the side of his face, forcing him off of him. He began to repeatedly beat at the lawyer man's head, not being able not to cry as he did it. Thank God the lawyer man was old or all of this would be much harder.

Once it seemed the lawyer man was unconscience, Pete got up and limped over to the police officer's car. It took some time getting the driver's door open, but it gave way eventually. He leaned his head away from the awful smell emanating from the car and quickly swiped the key ring off the officer. He tried many keys until his handcuffs finally fell off.

At this moment a ring came from the lawyer man's pocket. He went over and grabbed it out of his pocket and looked at what it was. It was a text message.

**To: Clayton Riddell**

**From: Wendy Stevens  
**

**You there yet?**

Pete quickly typed in a short response.

**To: Wendy Stevens**

**From: Clayton Riddell  
**

**yeah, all good  
**

Pete was nervous. He didn't know if the girl on the other end would catch on, he didn't know how lawyer man, Clayton as it is, typed. But it didn't seem to matter as this Wendy replied with no problems.

**To: Clayton Riddell**

**From: Wendy Stevens  
**

**Good. I got that information you wnted. No one is in that cell other than yor client. Are yo sure he said he had a room mate?  
**

Pete was wholly confused by this, but typed a response anyway. Had he said something about Gary? Or was it he that Wendy was talking about? Maybe not. Probably not.

**To: Wendy Stevens**

**From: Clayton Riddell  
**

**you sure**

**To: Clayton Riddell**

**From: Wendy Stevens  
**

**Defintley. No Gary. Want me to make doubley sure?**

So it was Gary and Pete she was talking about. Still under a lot of confusion, Pete typed in another response and shoved the phone in his pocket. He had to get moving.

**To: Wendy Stevens**

**From: Clayton Riddell  
**

**please**

-------------------

I like this chapter, nice little bit of action at the end. We reach our conclusion at seventy miles-per-hour Constant Reader, so be on your toes.


	7. Chapter 7

Pete had until four, when the meeting was supposed to end. Four-thirty really counting the supposed drive back to the prison. A drive that would never happen, judging by the condition of both cars and passengers. And since the cars were surrounded by trees, it won't be so noticeable by a passing driver. A part of the plan neither Pete nor Gary gave much thought, which in the long run would've been a major disadvantage.

Clayton may wake up any second, a liability Pete just couldn't risk. He walked back over to where the other man lay, but stopped before doing anything.

Why was he doing this? What was the point of so many people dying for just one teenager? There really was none, Pete started to think. He looked over at the officer, brains seeping out the big gap in his skull. Was that worth revenge? No, no.

_[It's not your choice.]_

It was Gary again. He was here, somewhere. Pete scanned three-sixty, but saw nothing.

"Gary?"

No response, not even a whisper. Pete turned his attention back to Clayton, who was beginning to nudge a little. If he was going to do something, he needed to do it now.

A choice was presented before Pete. Kill the lawyer man, go on with the plan. Or run off, forget everything and go in hiding. He might not last long with that, though. But wasn't it a better choice than killing _another _man for the sake of revenge.

_[It's not your choice. It never was.]_

"Dammit Gary, where are you?"

Again, nothing but the wind answered him back. It was frustrating Pete.

"Fine. Don't answer me G-Gary. I'm leaving, I'm done with this, I am."

_[It's not your choice!]_

This Pete could hear loud and clear from the road. He started to walk up that way, until Clayton nudged once more, this time adding a grunt. Pete's heart stopped and somehow he could feel Gary edging him backwards, back to Clayton. Back to finish him off. Pete, suddenly, had no more doubts. He walked back to the police car, again opening it up. The smell was stronger this time, a mixture of rotten eggs and copper. He had to look over the dead officer a few times before locating his gun holster. He pried the pistol out with two fingers, swiftly taking it and slamming the door again. The door did not close but swung back open violently. The body of the officer stirred outward and fell out of the car and onto the ground. A splatter of blood popped from the hole in the officer's head as he made contact with the dirt, staining the nearby grass. Pete ran off back to where Clayton lay, who was now opening his eyes. His first sight was that of a gun barrel aimed straight at his chest.

He gargled his words through a mouthful of blood. "Pete I-"

Two shots in the chest, and Clayton Riddell went limp. Pete gave no second glance and walked up the hill. His heart pounded, not so much at the thought of just killing a man, but at the thought that Gary was the one who pulled the trigger. How was this happening? This wasn't in his nature, was it? Were all humans like this?

_[Hurry up and I'll tell you.]_

Again from the road. Pete did as he was told, rushing back to the road. He began his walk** south**, to Bullworth Academy. It was their third day back from summer break, meaning Jimmy would be back from his time with Zoe. He would be ripe and ready for-

Pete stopped again at the top of the hill of the road. He could see the bridge out to the school over a grouping of buildings. That is where he is supposed to go, but that is not where he wants to go. He didn't really _want _to do any of this, did he? Dammit, he really didn't know.

_[This is getting ridiculous.]_

There was a rattling of metal. Pete looked over to see Gary shaking the front gate, broken and hanging at an angle, of the deserted house. He seemed satisfied at getting Pete's attention and walked towards him. He was mere inches from Pete's face, which would usually would make his heart flutter. Now he only felt horrified, terror straight to the spine. Gary smiled and seemed to blink out of sight. Pete could still feel his presence.

_[It is _not _your choice!]_

"Yes it is, Gary. It- it is."

Gary appeared to the left of Pete. He was still smiling, not at all in an innocent way.

_[I've told you this before, Pete. You came to _me _didn't you. You wanted _my _help. And why? cause you were week. You needed me?]_

"But this, this right now, isn't real. You're not here, you're at the jail somewhere, probably dead."

_[Well your half right.]_

The terror built up and Pete felt cold. He exhaled deeply, frightened to be able to see his own breath. Despite being the last days of summer, it was freezing.

"What" was all he could muster.

Now Gary was back at the gate, leaning on it.

_[Come on Petey, you're a smart lad. Put the pieces together, so to speak.]_

Pete just stood there, shivering and staring at the ground. The last few months ran past his mind as if it were all a movie, and someone had hit the fast-forward button. Certain parts became clear in his mind, sticking to his thoughts.

_And quick, cause I don't wanna stick around this place for very long_

_Shut up ya' fucking lunatic_

_If you asked any inmate the next morning what they heard that night, they'd say a small boy crying out the entire night_

_**Are yo sure he said he had a room mate?**_

_hushed whispers and the word 'crazy' being passed around_

_I need you Petey. I need you_

_**Definitely. No Gary**_

_I can use you. My little battering ram, you'll be. In a way_

"What the fuck."

_['What the fuck' indeed. Do you see now Pete?]_

"No. I- can't. No.

_[For fuck's sake Petey! Do you remember when you came to the prison the first time, do you remember?]_

"Yes, that was the first time I met up with you and-"

_[You know damn well what you were doing. Think.]_

"I am, it's just that. You're still alive, I know it."

_[Tell that to the coroner, to my parents. You were at the prison, but ask that guard who bugged you for the ticket and he'll say he saw you come in and leave, seeing no one. Just a sad little boy confirming a fact he never wanted to realize.]_

"I was visiting... you."

_[You made me the day you overheard Lance telling Trevor Moore that I was found in my cozy little cell, hanging by my bed sheets.]_

He remembered a day in school. Lance was telling Trevor Moore something, and-

_dead? what?_

_yeah man. cops found him hanging in his room._

_guess he didn't like the food._

_im glad he's gone. crazy really._

The earth seemed to rotate around him. Gary reappeared again in front of Pete, arms crossed and looking frustrated.

"I-"

_[You. You couldn't exact your proper revenge yourself, could you? Now who was the only person who could really help you? I was the closest friend you ever had, I was the toughest person you knew, I was most cunning, and I hated Jimmy as much as you did at that moment. You needed me.]_

"I always needed you."

_[That you did. That you did. And I never left your side.]_

_he needs to pay, Petey. he did this to me._

_there you go femme boy. right into the pot, all of it. there, now we wait._

_then you have to put it in full reverse Petey. think you could do that?_

_to get to the prize you need to bust a few heads._

_bust a few heads_

_bust a few_

Now Pete also smiled. It was an empty gesture, his eyes devoid of any sanity that might once have been there. Gary brushed the side of Pete's head, giving off the same look.

_[Now we gotta do _

what we gotta do."

_[That's right. We've gotta_

bust a few heads."

Gary was gone now, his presence still felt not around Pete but _inside _Pete. They were one in the same, a force that was once rippling with conflict but now in perfect harmony.

"Time to take care of business," Pete said, continuing down the street. He would cut through the woods a mile down so as to not be seen. He would reach the path that spins around the water, again cutting through the back woods to the side of the school and hop up the wall behind the boy's dorm, which was empty during classes.

He hummed the entire way, happier than he had ever been his entire life.


	8. Chapter 8

"The fuck are you _doing!"_

Troy Miller threw a paper ball at Melvin as he said this. Melvin redirected the stink bomb he had aimed at Trent back towards Troy, who ducked just in time to see it fly past overhead and hit Tad Smith right in the abdomen. The scare of the impact sent Tad straight down on his ass, the smell made the small boy faint.

"You fucking ball sack" Trent said as he lept at a now petrified Melvin. He slung the large boy over one shoulder, which was met with much kicking and protesting, and shoved him head first into the trash.

A mouthful of crusty apple. Yum.

Troy laughed his ass off, gave a nearby boy a high-five, and went off to his room. That little feat of bully strength was good jack-off material, as far as Troy saw it.

Enter Jimmy Hopkins. Nothing surprised him anymore, this was as normal as normal could be. Geek in the trash, the smell of puke and gym socks, and a boy sprawled out on the floor. This one wasn't stripped naked, which was a new sight.

_Maybe the fag in this place is lessening._

Jimmy chuckled as he made his way into his room, threw his backpack and shoes into a corner, and stretched across the bed with a sigh. First day back from Summer break and already he had some shit homework to do. Chemistry?

"Useless as hell," he said to the room. Pour some stuff in beakers, pour that stuff into tubes, heat to one-hundred degrees, stir until green. Besides, he didn't want to think about work. What he _wanted _to think about was one Zoe Taylor. The Zoe Taylor who turned into an arching, moaning sex kitten at the slightest nudge. Yes, it's been a good summer for Jimmy Hopkins.

It's been great.

Jimmy slipped to sleep, the naked image of Zoe Taylor still swimming around his head. He would wake in a few hours, work through until midnight, then sleep again. Back into the old routine now, no more slipping out of bed at two in the afternoon.

_I'm gonna miss that. Waking up and. . ._

The room around him melted away. The dorm went quiet.

It would be Jimmy's laziness that would lead to his death. If he were awake, he might have noticed the power flicker off, wonder why only the boy's dorm was experiencing this problem, maybe go out and do something. Instead, as he glided through his wet dreams

* * * * *

Jimmy still lay sleeping when Pete entered his room, locking the door behind him. The lights were off again, though no one else went outside to see. Either the boys didn't care or were to scared of the shadows to step foot our from under the safety of the blankets. Pete stood at the foot of the bed, swallowed by complete darkness, gun barrel pointing straight at Jimmy's head.

Pete grabbed a beaker from the chemistry set behind him and threw at the wall behind Jimmy's head. The silence was broken violently by it's shattering.

"What the fuck!" Jimmy yelled. He jumped out of bed, fist up and ready. "I'm not cool with jokes this late, so fess up now and I won't kill you."

"Hopkins. It's eleven at _night_, my boy. It's not Summer break, you're not pumping your seed in some whore, so wake up and get to work." Pete laughed.

Jimmy lowered his fists. He knew the voice, just as Tad did.

"Who the hell is this?"

They both looked at the door as a group of boys was heard outside. They began banging on the door, yelling to be let in.

_Dud there's someone else in there._

_Open the door Jimmy!_

_What's going on man, we heard gun shots!_

_Someone get on the power!_

_I got it._

_Jimmy! Hopkins man open the door!_

"Why, you know who it is. It's your pal, your best bud. You wouldn't have made it this far if it wasn't for _me_."

Jimmy took a step towards the voice. Then another.

"Back of son." Pete aimed the gun at Jimmy, whose eyes had not yet cut through the dark.

"Fuck you."

Jimmy ran forward to the foot of the bed, elbow extended like a battering ram. He hit nothing but the wall. The impact sent him tripping backwards, surprised, right into Pete. Pete shoved him away and raised the gun at his head. A light outside clicked on, the power obviously being restored. This time, Jimmy could make out where he was, and what he had in his hand.

"What is this?" Jimmy asked,

"Revenge."

Pete ran up and pushed Jimmy straight into the bookcase. Pete raised the gun to Jimmy's head, but then tossed it into the air. The gun fell, and Jimmy was ready to catch it. Now it was Jimmy who raised the gun to Pete's head.

"Nice catch dipshit. Slip of the hand, so what, are you going to kill me?"

"Go to hell kid, you piece of shit."

"You gonna shoot me, Hopkins?"

"I might. Why should I not?"

"Why don't you, you whore fucking bastard. Shoot me. You're mom's a slut, your fuck doll's a slut, and now you're not man enough to protect yourself."

"From who, you? Scrawny little shit, you're not worth the bullets."

"No, but your pretty girl was."

Jimmy's heart skipped a beat.

"What?"

Pete smiled. "Oh yeah. Pow pow, dead."

"You didn't do a damn thing, _you didn't do a damn thing!_"

_Jimmy? Open the door what the fuck!_

"How the shit do you know, Hopkins. Your lazy little ass lying around, too tired to even protect you're sweet piece of Summer ass."

"_Fuck you kid, I'm going to beat the shit out of you if you don't shut up!_"

"I got her when she was just walking back to her dorm. Took her off to the bushes, had my fun, then-" Pete made a slicing motion across his throat with his thumb, "-_shhhhkit. _done for."

"_Go fuck yourself!_"

"_Why don't you do it yourself, Hopkins my boy!"_

Pete sent a punch Jimmy's way who fired the gun. He emptied the rest of the chamber, about six rounds, Pete's way. He heard eight small, powerful thuds as each bullet made it's connection.

The boys at the door finally decided to crash through. They flipped on the switch, giving way to a horrible sight. Peter Kowalski lay sprawled across the floor, blood trickling out six bullet holes in his chest. A smile was spread across his face. The boys moved their attention to Jimmy, who stood there, gun in hand.

Troy Miller raised a shaking finger at Jimmy, who stood there dumbfounded and scared.

"Someone call the cops."


	9. Epilogue

The cops came shortly after, followed by the prefects and Doctor Crabblesnitch. Jimmy told them everything, told them how the boy snuck into his room, but it wasn't any use. In the state where Bullworth resides, shooting a boy six times in the chest isn't covered as self-defense, no matter what the boy's record was. Jimmy would have to spend some time himself in jail, where everyone already knew his name.

For a couple packs of cigarettes, the inmates took turns having their own brand of fun with Jimmy. The guards found him slumped in the showers, his blood swirling down the drain in floods.

All Gary wanted was for Jimmy to feel the same pain he did. And as Gary has said before, he always gets what he wanted. In life or in death.

Pete Kowalski was controlled by an entity, an entity he could not, or did not, want to fight for the sake of love. A love that sent him to is volunteered death, a martyr in his own sick right. He didn't have to die, it wasn't a perfect plan, but let's face it:

It gets real lonely in Hell.

-------------------

Well Constant Reader, I hope you had as much fun as I did. Every chapter ties in with the next, and eventually, the ending, so I suggest reading it over if you're at all confused. Trust me, I left no detail untouched. Even the legality of the ending, this has happened before in the states and the man who "protected" himself was sent to jail.

I hope you liked my story. Thank you very much.

- Dane Becker


End file.
